


It brings out your eyes

by GonnaWriteSomething



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Implied Relationship, M/M, Pre-Slash, Resurrection, Scott is a Bad Alpha, Temporary Character Death, a cat dies in this, idek what i'm doing, ritualistic animal slaughter, the pack are assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GonnaWriteSomething/pseuds/GonnaWriteSomething
Summary: Written for the prompt:“All that blood looks good on you, it really brings out your eyes.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did this as a sort of writing challenge to myself. I had exactly one hour of spare time between lectures and I wanted to see if I could write a story in that time.  
> (I finished this exactly one hour after I started it, so yay me for good pacing or something?)  
> This isn't proof-read or spell-checked.
> 
> Edit: On request and a good suggestion, I'm expanding this with a second chapter.

No one else seemed to notice, but Peter was gone. Scott didn’t care where Peter was unless he was causing trouble, Derek didn’t want to know anything about Peter at all and the rest of the pack just didn’t seem to find it odd that Peter stopped showing up to their pack gatherings.

Stiles first noticed it on a Thursday. He usually went over to Peter’s place on Thursdays. It had started out as simple research sessions, but soon it had devolved into general hang outs. They still did research, but more often than not, they would end the night with watching a movie, playing a game, or simply just talking for a while.

They didn’t meet every Thursday though. Some weeks Stiles had to study actual school stuff and some weeks Peter went out of town for whatever reason. But most Thursdays they would hang out.

So when Stiles showed up at Peter’s apartment on a Thursday night and Peter didn’t answer the door, he didn’t think much of it. Sure, he was a little pissed that Peter hadn’t left him a message like he usually did, but he wasn’t worried.

When the next Thursday came around and Peter still wasn’t back he started worrying just a little bit. Or maybe a lot, but no one had to know that.

When he mentioned it to the pack, Scott only scoffed and said something about old habits dying hard. He obviously believed Peter was up to no good again, so he couldn’t count on any help from Scott. He had vaguely hoped that the rest of the pack would be interested, but they seemed reluctant. As Erica put it, “You don’t even know that he’s gone. Maybe he’s just on vacation or something?”

Stiles bit his tongue to stop himself from answering that Peter would have told him if he went on vacation. He would most likely have brought him along. But the pack didn’t know that they had become friends and he didn’t feel like explaining himself, especially not with Scott there.

So he started looking into it himself. He sneakily checked the records at the station to see if Peter had been caught up in another murder spree. He hadn’t. Or if he had, he was hiding it well enough that the police hadn’t noticed.

But Stiles preferred to think that Peter was beyond all that.

So then he started hacking into the city’s surveillance system. He checked cameras from all over town around the time when Peter went missing. When that turned out to be a bust too, he did the only thing he could think of and started looking into spells for finding missing people.

He briefly considered going to Deaton but in the end, he decided not to. There was no love lost between Peter and the vet and he wasn’t sure Deaton wouldn’t try to stop him in his research.

So he spent night after night pouring over the books and tomes in Peter’s apartment. He couldn’t help feeling like he was in a hurry. Peter had been gone for too long already.

Scott noticed something was off the first time Stiles didn’t show up for school. That night he showed up in Stiles’ window, asking what was wrong.

“It’s probably nothing,” Stiles answered evasively. “I just really need to look something up. I’ll tell you about it later, yeah?” When Scott didn’t look convinced he added, “And I promise I won’t skip school again.”

Scott still looked dubious, but he seemed to accept it and left Stiles alone.

Stiles hadn’t even had to lie. He wouldn’t need to skip school again, because that night he would finally be able to locate Peter.  

 

** ** **

 

The spell was simple enough that even he could manage it without screwing up. He sat in Peter’s apartment, using one of his shirts as a focus. When the herbs he had carefully mixed and used to paint some runes on the floor started glowing, he knew he was on the right track. Taking a deep breath, he entered the rune circle and sat down with the shirt in his lap.

He closed his eyes and felt his world shift. The spell would bring his consciousness with it along the road Peter had travelled since last being in the space where he performed the spell.

Stiles felt himself move like wind out of Peter’s apartment, through town and out into the preserve.

The spell didn’t give any indication as to how Peter had been transported or whether he had met anyone else or not. It simply showed him the path he would need to get to Peter.

Stiles was in the middle of the preserve when he suddenly snapped back to himself. He scrambled to get up, still disoriented from the spell.

Peter was in the preserve? Somewhere in the middle of the forest with no sign as to why he had gone there?

That didn’t sound good. That didn’t sound good at all.

He stuffed Peter’s shirt in his bag and rushed down to his jeep. He could see the road he had travelled thanks to the spell as a soft line of light. He knew it would start fading immediately so he ignored the speed limit on his way out of town.

He took a service road that led into the preserve and parked his car where the light turned into the woods. Then he started running.

The light that showed his way was rapidly fading and if he lost it, he would have to start all over again.

His breath was coming in short bursts and his legs were aching by the time he saw the end of the light. He came to a stop in the middle of a clearing and looked around.

If the magic had worked correctly, Peter should be here. But the clearing was empty and there was no one in sight. The only things in the clearing were a couple of stumps, a frightened looking squirrel and…

A pile of dirt.

Stiles’ was sure that if his heart hadn’t been beating so fast because of all the running, it would have sped up as he laid eyes on the inconspicuous pile of dirt in the middle of the clearing.

He hoped to a god he didn’t believe in that he was wrong, but he was pretty sure he knew where Peter was.

Carefully, with a sense of trepidation in his chest, he went up to the pile. It wasn’t very hard to see that it was fresh. The earth around it was undisturbed and the pile itself still looked soft, despite the frost that had been starting to creep in at night.

Stiles didn’t have any tools with him but he didn’t care. He started digging with his hands, not caring about getting dirty or the bruises he got on his knuckles from shovelling away pebbles. He just had to know. He had to prove himself wrong.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

It didn’t take long at all to uncover Peter’s body. Whoever buried him hadn’t done a very good job. The top layer of dirt would probably have disappeared the next time it rained, leaving Peter’s body exposed to nature and wild animals.

Looking down at Peter’s face, Stiles felt strangely empty. The werewolf still looked like himself. Just paler and much more still. There was nothing in his face or on his body to indicate how he died. It looked like he had fallen asleep in the middle of the clearing and then never woken up again.

Stiles had expected to feel something at this point, but he didn’t. nothing but a hollow emptiness in his chest that hadn’t been there before. As if a part of him had died with Peter and now it was gone forever, never to be filled again.

He didn’t really think about it when he hefted Peter’s body up of the ground. He was heavy, but Stiles had been getting steadily stronger since he started running with werewolves. So, by half dragging, half carrying Peter on his back, he slowly made his way back to the jeep.

He carefully placed Peter’s body in the backseat and got in the driver’s seat. On the way back to Peter’s apartment, he obeyed every speed limit and every rule. He didn’t know what he would do if one of his dad’s officers stopped him for speeding, only to discover something that looked way too much like a recently dug up corpse in his backseat.

Thankfully, Peter’s apartment was remote and he didn’t have many neighbours. Stiles had never seen anyone else in the building and he hoped it would stay this way as he dragged Peter’s body into the elevator.

Apparently, he had some more work to do.

 

** ** **

 

Resurrection wasn’t as easy as Peter had made it seem. Stiles spent the remainder of the week reading everything he could find about necromancy in between trying to keep Peter’s body from decaying too much. It wasn’t easy, but he eventually worked out a system where he filled the bathtub with ice and kept the temperature in the apartment as low as possible.

Both Scott and his father tried to call him several times, but he didn’t pick up and on the third day his phone died. He didn’t think much of it, but he didn’t have any time to waste. He could tell the pack all about it as soon as Peter was back. He was kind of glad that no one else knew the location of Peter’s apartment. This way he could research in peace.

It took him a week, but finally everything was ready.

He dragged Peter’s body out of the tub and placed him in the middle of the living room floor. He’d prepared the mixture of herbs he would need beforehand and he spent almost an hour painstakingly drawing out intricate runes all over Peter’s body.

There was one ingredient missing, but it had to be fresh and he hadn’t had time to get it beforehand.

It took him about half an hour to get to the cat home, but once he got there it was only a matter of minutes before he had a cat next to him in the jeep. He had bought a carrier to keep it in and thankfully it didn’t seem to mind being moved that way. He had picked the cat that seemed the most docile on purpose. It wouldn’t do if the cat interrupted the ceremony.

The cat remained in the cat carrier without complaint all the way up to the apartment, but once it caught scent of Peter’s body, it let out a high-pitched wail and started scratching at the walls of the carrier.

Stiles wasn’t sure if it was because Peter was a werewolf or because it didn’t enjoy the smell of rotting flesh. Either way, it wouldn’t matter for long.

He went to the kitchen to get a knife. He’d have prepared to use an actual butcher’s knife, but Peter’s very expensive kitchen knives would have to do.

The ceremony was pretty simple. Using the cat as a trigger and his own life force as the source, he would split his own life with Peter and bring him back to his former glory.

Stiles took the cat in one hand, ignoring the scratches it left on his arm in its attempts to get away. He sat down next to Peter’s body that was still covered in runes. He looked them over to make sure none of them had been smudged. When he was satisfied he lifted the knife and with a swift slice, he slit the cat’s head clean off.

Now he had to hurry. The blood had to still be warm when he performed the ceremony. He brought the cat’s body to his mouth and let its blood trail down his throat. It tasted horrible and he almost retched it right back up, but he managed to keep it down.

He then took another mouthful of blood and brought his lips down to Peter’s, careful to not touch him anywhere else.

He let the blood trail out of his mouth, between Peter’s parted lips. Then he pulled back a little and murmured the Latin phrase that would trigger the spell.

At first nothing happened. Stiles was starting to get a sinking feeling in his chest when he realised that it probably hadn’t worked. Then, all of a sudden, the runes on Peter’s body started glowing and the decaying meat of his body started to knit itself together.

There was something hypnotic about watching Peter’s body repair itself. It was almost like werewolf healing, except the extent of damage done to Peter’s body could never have been healed that way.

It took longer than Stiles thought it would, but at last Peter’s body shivered and he drew in a shaking breath, followed by sputtering cough.

When Peter took his first breath, Stiles felt as if he did the same. He’d been acting on instinct for close to a week. Nothing had mattered except for getting Peter back. He realised he probably hadn’t eaten in several days.

His body started shaking from the shock to his system. He dropped the beheaded cat into his lap and it left a long string of blood down the front of his shirt. He

With a last cough, Peter pushed himself into a sitting position and opened his eyes.

He stared at Stiles for a moment before his face lit up with his trademark smirk.

“All that blood looks good on you, it really brings out your eyes.”

Stiles managed a laugh before he threw himself into Peter’s arms, hugging him tightly around the waist. The tears he hadn’t shed since he discovered Peter’s body finally found release. He sobbed desperately with his face pressed into the side of Peter’s neck, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in the world.

At first Peter just sat there, as if in shock. But then, slowly his arms came up to hug the boy back.

“You shouldn’t have.” He murmured into Stiles’ hair while softly rubbing the sobbing boy’s back.

“You sacrificed too much Stiles, it wasn’t worth it.”

Stiles’ only response was hugging Peter even tighter.

There was no doubt in his mind.

It had been worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written on the request/suggestion by IgnisFelicis.  
> Just like the last chapter, this was written in less than an hour, so don't judge me for the lack of plot or details.

Stiles was exhausted.

He’d spent so much time and effort on bringing Peter back that now when Peter was there, hugging him tightly and stroking his hair, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Peter seemed to sense this, because before he knew it he was begin carried to the bathroom where Peter meticulously cleaned them both up in the shower and then he was herded off to Peter’s bed.

He’d never lain in Peter’s bed before. He’d been in his bedroom a couple of times, but he’d never dared to approach the monstrosity that took up half the room.

When he finally rested his head on the pillow, it was with a loud groan. The mattress was perfect and the sheets were softer than anything he’d experienced before. Peter hadn’t even made it to the other side of the bed before Stiles was asleep.

 

** ** **

 

He woke up to the feeling of Peter’s soft breath on his neck. He found it strangely funny that if this had happened a few weeks ago, he would have felt weird about it. He’d probably have scrambled away as fast as he could and left the apartment.

However, a death, weeks of searching and a ritualistic animal slaughter later, this felt perfectly normal. Like this was where he was supposed to be.

He stretched languidly in Peter’s arm and rubbed his cheek against the soft pillow. He had questions of course. He had to know where they stood now and more importantly, he had to know how Peter died. But all that could wait. The bed was too soft to resist and he fell back into a light doze.

When he woke up the next time, Peter wasn’t in the bed anymore.

Stiles got up, stretching as he did so, and headed to Peter’s closet. He wasn’t sure what had happened to his clothes the day before and he wasn’t interesting in finding out. Even if he washed them, the bloodstains would never disappear.

So, he opened Peter’s closet and dressed in the most comfortable clothes he could find; a pair of jogging pants and one of those soft V-necks that Peter liked so much. Then he headed out into the living room with the adjoined kitchen where he could hear Peter moving around.

He slid into his usual spot at the breakfast bar and started supplying himself with the breakfast foods Peter was in the process of dishing out. He was starving. But then again, not eating anything for several days would do that to you.

Peter just gave him a soft look and started on another batch of pancakes.

There was a companionable silence that none of them wanted to break as they ate their breakfast. When the last crumb was gone, Stiles knew it was time to talk though.

He decided to get straight to the point, “So, how did you die?”

Peter didn’t look surprised by the question, he had probably seen it coming.

“I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

Stiles scoffed, “Well, obviously I won’t like it. You died, remember?“

Peter offered him a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“It was the pack.”

He said it neutrally, like it didn’t matter, but Stiles could see the pain and suffering in his eyes, even as he was shocked speechless.

“The… They… WHAT?”

He hadn’t expected that. “But they said you were probably just on vacation?”

Even as he said it, he realised it sounded stupid. The way Peter looked at him confirmed it.

“I guess they didn’t want you to know. Let me guess, they didn’t want to help you find me?”

Stiles nodded.

“And they told you it might be best to not look at all?”

Stiles nodded again.

“No wonder they didn’t want you to find out. Our recent… Attachment, is probably the reason they decided to put me down like a rabid dog.” Stiles could tell Peter was trying to maintain his usual cold façade, but the words came out sounding bitter anyway.

Stiles contemplated Peter’s seething figure for a moment before he came to a decision.

“It’s the weekend, it won’t be hard to get them all together.” The morose look on Peter’s face transformed into a smirk.

“Want to go pay them a visit?”

 

** ** **

 

Getting the pack together wasn’t hard. They’d been worried about Stiles during his absence and Scott was quick to call a pack meeting at the loft when Stiles requested it.

Peter, always one for making an entrance, decided to wait in the car while Stiles went in alone.

The pack was all gathered when Stiles entered. He was greeted by a flurry of worried werewolves as they all wanted to ask where he’d been and how he was feeling.

They silenced quickly though, when they noted his grim expression.

“Stiles, buddy, what’s wrong?” Scott asked, furring his brows as he looked Stiles over for obvious injuries.

Stiles only scoffed. “Don’t _buddy_ me, Scott. I want to ask you some questions and I want you to answer them honestly.”

Scott looked nervous but he nodded his agreement so Stiles fixed him with a determined glare.

“Where is Peter?”

Scott had become a better liar over the last couple of years. If Stiles hadn’t been looking for it, he probably wouldn’t have noticed how Scott’s eyes flicked quickly to Derek before he answered. “What do you mean? We don’t know where he is, I thought we already told you that.”

The sheer nerve of the lie made Stiles burn with hot rage on the inside, but he kept his outwards appearance neutrally cool. “Don’t lie to me Scott, I know you know where he is and I want to know.”

Scott flinched when he realised Stiles most likely already knew the answer to the question, but he held out his hands in a placating gesture anyway.

“Stiles, it was an accident. But you know how he is, he’s not sane. Now he’s dead and you won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Stiles felt something inside him snap. “Worry about him? Do you hear yourself Scott? You killed your own pack member and for what? Because you thought he was some obscure threat to my safety?” Scott drew a breath as if to say something, but Stiles interrupted him, “ _He is fucking pack Scott!”_

Scott had the decency to look ashamed at that. The rest of the pack had been quiet up until that point but now Erica raised her voice.

“Stiles, we know you’ve been sneaking of to see him.”

She said it as if it were a big secret and now he could come clean. Stiles couldn’t believe his friends in that moment.

“So what?” he asked incredulously. “I wasn’t keeping it a secret from anyone. I would have told you if you asked me. Now if you don’t mind, can you tell me what’s so wrong with spending some time with one of my _pack mates.”_ He glared furiously at the pack, one at a time.

They all looked chastened except for Derek who just scoffed. “Stiles, he’s not pack. He hasn’t been pack since before he woke up from the coma.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Derek? Or do you actually believe that?” Stiles couldn’t believe his ears. “He’s been to almost every single pack meeting for weeks, he’s helped on in every supernatural crisis we’ve encountered and you have the gall to say he’s not pack? What did you think he’s been all this time, just the alpha’s little helper?”

After that statement, an uneasy silence settled over the pack. Derek stubbornly continued to look as if he’d done nothing wrong and Stiles wasn’t sure what to make of Scott’s expression in that moment, but at least the rest of the pack were squirming in their seats.

Stiles let the silence hang for a few moments, if he knew his creeper-wolf right it wouldn’t be long before he appeared.

He realised he was right when one by one as they heard the approaching footsteps, the werewolves froze. Scott’s head snapped to the door and then back to Stiles. “What did you do?” he hissed in a voice that sounded so unlike him that Stiles actually flinched back from the vehemence in it.

He didn’t get a chance to answer though, because in that moment the door opened and Peter stepped in. He looked exactly like he had before he was killed. Not a hair out of place and his signature smirk in place on his face. If he were at all angry that the pack had killed him, you couldn’t tell it from his face. It was still evident though, from his stiff posture and the way his eyes flashed an icy blue.

“Missed me?” he snarked, letting his eyes trail over each of the pack members.

Surprisingly, the first one to break the stunned silence was Lydia. “Stiles, what the fuck did you do?” she hissed. When Stiles only looked questioningly on her she continued, “I know resurrection spells and they _always_ require a sacrifice. So you better tell me right now, _what did you do?_ ”

Stiles huffed in annoyance. “What, you think I used a human sacrifice?” He glared at her, refusing to back down before her annoyed look. “Obviously not, I gave him half of my life years.” There was a simultaneous intake of breath at that statement but before anyone could say anything he added. “And a cat.”

Stiles really shouldn’t have been surprised by what happened next, because it was just like Scott to focus on the unimportant things. Still, he couldn’t help staring incredulously at Scott when he shrieked, “YOU KILLED A CAT?”

Rage suddenly overtook him at the sheer hypocrisy in that statement. “YOU KILLED PETER!” He shrieked right back. He marched up to Scott and got right up in his face, poking his chest with every word that left his mouth. “You. Don’t. Have. Any. Right. To. Judge.” He grabbed Scott by the collar and hissed in his face, “I would do it again, I would kill every single cat I find if it means bringing Peter back after you and your gang of vigilantes find it prudent to put him down like a dog.”

With those words, all his energy left him. He looked at Peter who seemed to be on the same page. Without another word to the pack or to Scott, he took Peter by the hand and led him out of the loft, never to return again.


End file.
